Monthly Newspaper • DIOCESE OF BRIDGEPORT

I recently was asked to participate in a senior executive level panel discussion on best advice for job seekers in the current economy.  Not because I am any kind of an expert on that topic, but because over the years I have had the chance to hire a lot of people at a variety of different firms and companies.  In preparing for the event, my thoughts took a somewhat unanticipated direction.

Any successful human group endeavor, in corporate form or otherwise, depends on trust.  There are other important factors for sure, but long-term cooperation cannot survive without trust, and fear is ultimately a pyrrhic motivator.  Teams are often more productive and successful than individual contributors, and many companies go to great lengths to build high performing teams.  One team-building technique which has been popular over the years, is the “trust fall.”

According to Wikipedia (the lingua franca of the social media age), “A trust fall is a purported trust-building game often conducted as a group exercise in which a person deliberately allows themselves [sic] to fall, relying on the other members of the group (spotters) to catch the person.”  The description paints the picture.  It is an image I can’t get out of my head.

There is a surprisingly large amount of literature on the topics of trust, belief and faith, and the relationships among them.  I am no philosopher or theologian and will leave the final decision to others, but in my mind trust and belief are different sides of the same coin.  Belief presumes trust in things which cannot be perceived, and trust requires belief in outcomes that cannot be assured.  Faith then is the trust and belief in a power beyond ourselves.

Faith is a (perhaps the) central theme in both the Old and New Testaments of the Bible.  From Noah to Abraham to Moses to Mary and through the Acts of the Apostles there are countless stories of individuals who said “yes” to requests they could not possibly understand and undertook tasks which to all the world appeared futile.  In each instance, we are told, those actions had positive consequences far beyond the powers of human imagination.

I have a favorite “trust fall” image from the Bible.  It is found in Matthew 14:25-33:

Shortly before dawn Jesus went out to them, walking on the lake.  When the disciples saw him walking on the lake, they were terrified. “It’s a ghost,” they said, and cried out in fear.

But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”

“Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”

“Come,” he said.

Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!”

Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?”

By a spontaneous act of faith Peter accomplished the unimaginable.  However, “when he saw the wind, he was afraid” and began to sink.  I suspect many of us can relate to that moment, when doubt, worry and negative thoughts can rob us of our confidence to move forward.  Note the final four words of the passage: “why did you doubt?”  I believe that Peter’s failure was not that he did not believe, but that he did not trust that belief sufficiently in the face of the perceived perils around him.

My takeaway from all this is that life itself is “the great” trust fall.  We are called to look beyond the issues and problems of today, filter out or ignore the voices of negativity and division, see through the mendacity that appears to dominate our media and politics, seek out, celebrate and support that which is good and true in our country, our communities and our families.  Throw ourselves forward, with abandon, into the future.  Trusting always for a safe landing.

Norman Vincent Peale, the author of The Power of Positive Thinking, had it exactly right when he wrote: “Believe in yourself!  Have faith in your abilities!  Without humble but reasonable confidence in your own powers you cannot be successful or happy.”

And of course, Jesus said: “All things are possible for one who believes.” (Mark 9:23)

By: Daniel M. FitzPatrick 2019

Master and Teacher,

Bless the students who will have trouble settling down this week, whose minds are still at the beach or at grandma’s swimming pool, or the amusement park or soccer camp.

Bless those who sit nervously in class: those who are new in school and those who never read anything over the summer and know a test is coming anyway.

Bless those who will struggle, those who will succeed, and those who get lost in the crowd.

Bless the new friendships that will begin on day one and bless those cherished friendships that will be renewed.

Bless them all with compassion, that they may root for the underdog, celebrate those who accomplish much, and pray fervently for each other.

Bless them with an environment free from bullying, needless competition, and petty jealousy.

Help them, Lord, to fall in love with learning.

Bless the parents of these students, their first teachers in the ways of faith. Give them patience when the homework takes too long, give them the courage to understand that their children are not perfect and give them the courage to discipline with love. May they abdicate less and partner more.

And we beg you, Lord, to bring these children safely home at the end of the day, the week, or the semester. Keep them free from violence – at home and at school – on the bus and on the streets – and guide them home to the waiting arms of those who loved them first.

Finally, Lord, we pray in the thanksgiving for the men and women who have already been hard at work straightening desks, taping names to cubbies, painting lockers, planning classes cleaning rooms, decorating bulletin boards, hanging posters, and studying test scores. Bless these servants with peace, patience, persistence, and your Spirit, that they may be Your presence to our young people, Your hands, and Your voice.

We make this prayer through Christ our Lord: teacher, servant, and source of all hope.

Amen.

Originally Appeared on Five Minutes on a Monday, a Blog by Patrick Donovan (Executive Director of the Leadership Institute).

My little ones, my birds, my praises sing,

My glory shines from each suspended wing.

The birds are children of the light,

gayly singing, dawn ‘til night.

And safely sleep, no fear have they,

I feed and shelter them each day.

The birds of prey are children of the night,

In silence do their wings give flight.

My children safe they will not find,

for daylight makes the searcher blind.

Four-legged things in burrows deep.

cannot escape the killer’s eye.

My children fair sleep in fresh air,

‘til dawn alights the sky.

My children, grow and test your wings.

A bird must fly as well as sing.

Fear not to leave the safety of the nest.

The time is right to try.

Look out and see how others pass the test,

for birds it is no trick to fly.

It takes a leap to get you off

and trust in Me.

Then gliding effortlessly out,

You’ve won a victory over doubt.

Flying is no special gift,

just stretch your wings,

and I’ll provide the lift.

It is not long ‘til you can soar

far above the earthly floor,

and rise to Me

on wings of faith.

And now you’ll find you’re well equipped to soar

to heights you’ve never seen before.

These heights, familiar but to Me,

I want to share with thee.

Poem by John J. Flynn, a parishioner of St. John Parish in Darien

“Hail Mary, full of grace…,” so went my prayer as I walked up and down the rows and aisles of the Tsongas Center at UMass Lowell, sprinkling holy water and salt along with each seat. As a member of the Prayer Team for Steubenville East, I helped to bless and prepare the space for the 2300+ high school students who would soon arrive and the outpouring of the Holy Spirit that they would receive.

Steubenville East is one of six Steubenville Conferences that are hosted by Life Teen each summer. Through engaging talks, opportunities for prayer and Reconciliation and powerful liturgies, high school students encounter God and are inspired to live out their Catholic faith in their homes, schools, churches, and communities.

I never attended a Steubenville Conference as a high school student—I had only heard great things about the conference. Last year, I was invited to be a part of the Prayer Team, one of the volunteer ministries available. My high school youth minister, Paola Peña, was the Prayer Team Lead, and Father Sam Kachuba, the pastor at my parish (St. Pius X) was the chaplain for the Prayer Team. I accepted the invitation, not knowing what to expect and came away from the weekend having had a very powerful, spiritual experience that inspired me to volunteer again this year. 

The main role of the Prayer Team is to intercede for the conference participants throughout the weekend. Each of us are assigned to a particular section of the arena and we pray for the teens that are entrusted to us there. Specifically, we pray for an openness of hearts, that the Word of God might penetrate and illuminate parts of their lives that need healing and peace. We also have the opportunity to pray with and for the teens during Adoration, which takes place on the last night of the conference. For some teens, this may be their first time experiencing Adoration. Whether a newcomer or a veteran, the hope is that the teens are awakened and have an intimate encounter with Jesus, who is truly present in the Eucharist. What makes Adoration at Steubenville so unique and powerful is that the priest (at this conference, it was Father John Burns) processes with the monstrance through each section. This allows the teens to see Jesus face-to-face, literally. As the priest began to process through my section, tears filled my eyes as I watched my teens respond with joy, awe and reverence as they met Jesus.

Another way in which the Prayer Team serves is through Reconciliation. An area for priests to hear Confessions is set up along the back of the concourse and a temporary chapel is located nearby. Our job is to station ourselves at various points to assist with the flow of teens going to Confession and also to minister to the teens who are in line. Some of the teens are nervous or scared to go. One of the teens to whom I talked hadn’t been to Confession since her first Confession. Regardless of the scenario, I reassured them that they would feel so much better after they went, like a weight being lifted off of their shoulders.

Prayer Team members standing near the exit clapped and cheered for the teens who had just received the sacrament. We invited each person to take a piece of chalk and put a tally mark on a poster to keep track of how many Confessions had been heard. It was truly amazing to see the peace and joy that radiated from the faces of teens who said they felt “much better” and “relieved.” Over 30 priests committed to hearing Confessions for multiple hours and by the end of the conference, we hit the mark of 1300 Confessions being heard. This was a beautiful milestone, from the dedication of so many priests who were instruments of God’s mercy to the number of souls that were washed clean and freed from the burden of sin. Our prayers were answered!

The following homily was delivered by Deacon Paul Kurmay, of St. Mark Parish in Stratford on July 28, 2019.

They say that one should never talk about politics or religion in polite company. Well, I guess I am going to be very impolite since I will be speaking about both. It is also said that religion and politics don’t mix, but that is an utter impossibility, since religion finds expression in political action, and politics is dependent on the moral values which religion teaches. They are simply inseparable.

The Catholic Church and the countless encyclicals of popes throughout the ages have made that abundantly clear. No one did so more forcefully than Saint John Paul II the Great, who linked the basic tenets of our faith with the overthrow of atheistic Communism throughout Eastern Europe. When workers were being treated like slaves during the industrial revolution, Pope Leo XIII spoke out against such abuses and outlined the fundamental human rights of all workers in his famous Encyclical entitled Rerum Novarum. It became a virtual blueprint for the world-wide labor movement of the late 19th and 20th centuries. Many condemned him for it, claiming that religion should have no part in forming labor laws and that market forces alone should dictate labor policy.

Pope Francis has spoken out courageously and forcefully about the need to save the planet from climate change and to respect the fundamental human rights of all immigrants, both legal and illegal. He also condemned capital punishment and, like all the popes before him, condemned abortion on demand, surely the hottest political issue of our time. Is there anyone here who believes the Church does not have a moral duty, imposed by Christ Himself, to speak out against every evil in our society?

So you would think that by now we would have gotten it straight. Political action devoid of basic religious principles is humanism at best and barbarism at worst. Political action devoid of divine Grace and supernatural love is simply and utterly sinful.

Two of the most contentious issues of our day are immigration and racism. Everyone knows that our immigration system is broken and that innocent children and families are suffering terribly as a result. None of us would ever want our children separated from us or held in virtual cages. It is a national disgrace that both political parties have failed to remedy the situation, each one passing the buck to the other. I fault them both, as do the American bishops. Do you think the Lord is happy with the way His children are being treated?

While we can legitimately take different approaches to the problem, from the left to the right, the Gospel demands that they be grounded in love, not hatred, trust in God and not fear of the foreigner. I think we can all agree that racism should have no part in the national debate and that we as Christians should never give tacit consent to public expressions of racism. As Cicero said ages ago, silence gives consent.

We as American Catholic Christians can hold strong and different views on any political subject, but the Church condemns the use of racially-loaded phrases like “Send them back” in promoting one policy or another. That is more than innocent name-calling. Taken in historical context, it is the classic expression of racism.

The use of that phrase comes out of the darkest pages of American history. At the turn of the 20th century, it was hurled vituperously against the Irish, Italians, Jews, Catholics, Eastern Europeans, Asians, blacks and Hispanics — in fact anyone who wasn’t a WASP, a white Anglo-Saxon Protestant. How could we ever have forgotten that our own ancestors were the victims of racism and were repeatedly told to “go back to where you came from.”

Not everyone who utters that phrase is a racist. I am not saying that. Only God knows what is in each person’s heart and only He can judge them. I am not. But if someone held a gun to your head, do you think you would be asking whether his interior intentions were good? Would you be asking whether he had bullets in the chamber? No, the sight of the gun itself would be a terrifying assault on your psyche. The same with words.

In his last speech to the nation, President Ronald Regan recounted the story involving the aircraft carrier, the USS Midway, on patrol in the South China Sea. The crew spotted a little leaky boat on the horizon, crammed full with refugees from Indo-China, hoping to get to America. As the ship’s launch approached the little sinking boat, one small refugee stood up erect and called out to an American sailor: “Hello, American sailor! Hello, Freedom Man!” The President called that “a small moment with a big meaning,” one he would never forget.

As preachers of the Gospel, we have a moral obligation to preach the words and commands of Christ our Lord, whether they are popular or deeply unpopular. His most compelling commandment was this: to love our neighbor as ourselves and to treat everyone the way we would want to be treated. Is that the way the national debate is being framed, do you think?

If someone disagreed with our own individual political views, is there anyone here who would want to be told to go back where we came from? What would you think if someone didn’t like what Father Birendra said in a homily and told him to go back where he came from? Would you remain silent or speak out against such a racist slur?

The Lord told us to expect persecution, ridicule, harassment and scorn, and He condemned those who said, “Lord, Lord” and dressed themselves in the clothing of a Christian but failed to live the Gospel message of love in their lives. He said it would go easier for Sodom and Gomorrah than for them — and we know what happened to Sodom and Gomorrah!

St. John said, “the man who claims ‘ I have known Jesus ‘, without keeping his commandments is a liar; in such a one there is no truth.”

My friends, we cannot afford to be sucked into outlandish displays of raw partisanship from any quarter, from the right or the left. Our Lord expects us — commands us — to have the courage to be Christians first and political animals second.

Have we not all prayed the beautiful words of the Our Father a zillion times? Have we not prayed that His Kingdom come and that His Will be done on earth as it is in heaven? Do you think people are shunned in heaven due to the color of their skin or their criticism of perceived injustices in their nation?

If we really mean what we say to God every day, then we know deep in our hearts that love of neighbor and trust in God is the only solution to every problem in our lives, no matter how difficult or contentious, and that, in the end, Love will always triumph over hatred and fear.

So, shoot me if you like. I said what I had to say. Our Lord was the One who told me to say it.

I am in the Holy Land this week with a group of young adults. We have visited Nazareth and arrived today in Bethlehem. Our visit today to the house of St. Peter and the seaside town of Capernaum reminded me of the card in my wallet.

This card in my wallet tells a story and it started, like all good stories do, with a teacher who made a difference.

It was my junior year in high school and Sr. Judy Eby, RSM asked us to reflect on that great passage from the Gospel according to St. Luke.  You remember the story: Jesus is teaching at the house of Peter in Capernaum and some friends want to get their buddy, who is paralyzed and has spent the better part of his life flat on a mat, closer to Jesus. Unable to get through the crowd, they drag the poor fellow up a ladder and down through the roof.

Then, after we read the passage, we watched a scene of Franco Zeffirelli’s 1977 masterpiece, Jesus of Nazareth. The story unfolds just like it does in Luke’s Gospel: the crowds have gathered and there is no room for the men to bring their friend to Jesus. He cannot walk, so they carry him over the wall, through the thatched roof, and place him before the Teacher.

You know what happens next. The movie takes some editorial license, but after a brief conversation, the man is told his sins are forgiven. The movie version, while riveting, fails to follow Luke’s account. Jesus forgives the man’s sins because he is moved by the actions of the friends. But more on that later.

In both versions, the crowd goes nuts. “Only God can forgive sins,” they reproach Jesus. Putting yourself on the same plane as God is only going to cause trouble. To this, we get a classic Jesus response: “Which is easier, to say, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise and walk’?”

Think about that. Surely forgiving sins is easier. Right? To show the crowd what he’s really capable of, Jesus tells the man to get up, pick up his mat, and go home. The man obliges. The crowd goes nuts for an entirely different reason and everyone learns an important lesson.

But back to the card in my wallet.

We wrap up the reading, the watching, and the discussion about the friends who carried the stretcher, and Sr. Judy hands us all an index card. “Now,” she tells us, “write down the names of those who carry you to Christ.”

Wait. What? This just got real.

I have repeated that exercise with youth and adults alike for years.  I even used it last night with my group here. Like Sr. Judy, I challenged them to think of those who, when we are paralyzed with fear, sinfulness, and selfishness, carry us to Christ. When you cannot move, who lifts you up? When you are sick or alone or unhappy or in serious need of a friend, who do you call?

I have edited my list throughout the years. Friends come and go. People die. But my list has been there since that spring day in 1987. I have moved it from wallet to wallet. It’s a thirty-two-year-old ratty piece of paper that I carry with me everywhere. On more than one occasion, the list has saved my life, my soul, my sanity.

Yes, there is a card in my wallet that tells a story. It tells a story of salvation.

Who’s on your list?

By: Patrick Donovan, director of The Leadership Institute

This post originally appeared on Patrick’s personal blog: Five Minutes on a Monday

Within a community, other than the comfort of our families and the security of our homes, little makes us more at ease than the familiarity of our neighbors. A local insurance rep tells us that “Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there.” Television personality Mr. Rogers always welcomed his young viewers by asking “Won’t you be my neighbor?” And of course, Jesus advises us to “love your neighbor as yourself.” But what happens when that neighbor, that familiarity is no longer there?

When the furnace expired and the basement flooded, the inevitable could not be postponed. After a few touch-ups and more than a few second guesses, the house went on the market—and came off three days later following an offer she could not refuse. At that point, no one could deny it any longer. Cathy was moving.

Cathy and her husband Bob had been our first neighbors, more than epitomizing the term neighbor as they lent us, the naïve new homeowners, their snowblower after a monstrous storm, collected the mail when we went away and stood “on-call” as babysitters for our two-year-old when her sister was on the way. And yes, we took in their mail too, checked on their black Lab that our daughters adored, and helped out here and there, though it always seemed we relied more on them than they did on us. “Love your neighbor”? That was never a problem; we seemed undeservingly blessed. As we outgrew our tiny Cape, making plans to move 12 years ago, Cathy allayed my doubts about leaving behind our beloved neighborhood with her gentle reminder that “God has a plan for us all.” What that plan was I did not know, but if she believed it, then so did I.

And now it was her turn. After losing Bob several years ago and keeping up with the house on her own, the time had come to pass it on to another young couple, ready to add new life to this neighborhood we had all at one time called home. My common sense and practicality, however, didn’t help to ease the realization that Cathy would no longer be there, but once again, she reminded me that “God has a plan for us all,” trusting that He would lead her to the right place. Though we had not been neighbors in that “next door” sense for more than a decade, we still met up in the aisles of the grocery store, chatted after Mass, and remained up-to-date on friends and acquaintances, our children and her grandchildren. And to this day, whenever I reference her in conversations with others, I do not use her full name or preface her with a vague “someone I know” but always call her “my neighbor Cathy.”

When we had our last visit (for a while) this week, I realized that is who she will always be – my neighbor Cathy. One doesn’t have to live next door, around the corner, or even in the same state to retain the privileged title of neighbor. The bonds we created over shared stories and the connections we forged through the desire for community reach beyond the confines of our former neighborhood. In that moment, I understood her mantra of “God has a plan for us all.” Part of that plan began 20 years ago when He brought her and her family into our lives—and never really allowed them to leave —as our neighbors and our friends.

As Cathy takes God’s plan to a new home, lucky those who find themselves with her living next door, expanding the sense of community she brought to us years ago. State Farm has nothing on her.

By Emily Clark

Editors Note: These comments were originally delivered by Helen Burland, Executive Director of St. Catherine Center for Special Needs on its 20th anniversary. They have been printed and posted here with her permission.

Good evening.

I am Helen Burland and I have the honor and privilege to serve as the Executive Director of Saint Catherine Center for Special Needs. I was so pleased to see so many familiar faces tonight and equally as excited to welcome our first-time attendees. This is our second year in a row that we have a full house.  This truly is a family gathering and we are so grateful to have all of you as part of the Saint Catherine family.

Tonight we have recognized some people who have made significant contributions to our mission and I add my congratulations and gratitude.

20 years ago, In 1999, the Diocese of Bridgeport and many people who are in this room tonight embraced the vision to create a faith-based education program that would welcome children whose learning needs were special. I stand before you tonight proud to say that Saint Catherine Center is a vibrant, joyful mission committed to working with people with disabilities and their families. We are founded on the belief from Catholic Social Teaching that the dignity of the human person is the foundation of a moral vision for society. That every person has a right to participate in society and a corresponding duty to work for the advancement of the well-being of all. Beginning with the belief that all life is valued, we work to provide for God’s most vulnerable individuals.

Saint Catherine Center is home to Saint Catherine Academy, a private special education school offering an alternative program to children ages 5-21. In 2014, we added an adult day program to offer an alternative for young people who had completed their formal education but still needed a structured, supervised environment. Additionally, we support services throughout the Diocese to assist parishes and schools in welcoming people with disabilities to be full participants in their communities.

If the students and young adults were here today, they would tell you that Saint Catherine’s is not as much a place as it is an experience where children and young adults learn:

• responsibility along with side math and reading;
• respect while they learn how to empty a dishwasher and
• trust while they navigate a grocery store or try a new skill at a job site

They would tell you that:

• they feel safe and respected;
• they experience kindness and compassion while they are challenged to reach their highest individual potential.
• It is a place where joy and gratitude go hand and hand with perseverance and hard work.

We are ordinary people on an extraordinary journey with the support of our families; a very dedicated Board, a talented and devoted staff, organizations like the Knights of Columbus and Order of Malta, numerous volunteers, and generous donors.

Sometimes it is too easy to glamorize the work we do when we talk about it on a night like this. Success at Saint Catherine’s is measured in small steps – not leaps and bounds. Sometimes it is imperceptible but we know it is there when we have a breakthrough moment. One of our students reminded me of this at graduation last week. As he approached the microphone to present a petition. He paused, took a deep breath, a proceeded to read flawlessly. It was the most beautiful prayer I have heard in a long time.

The work is very challenging; sometimes exasperatingly so – but when we get it right, it is so profoundly moving that we keep going.

We have over 40 children and young adults now receiving daily programming at the Center. Over the course of the year, they have taught us

• how to speak without words,
• how to better define “What is success”,
• how to overcome the fear of water;
• how to cook in our kitchen,
• how to dance with joy, and

Most importantly, they taught us how to look beyond ourselves; to walk with them – we have conquered many obstacles this year –some serious health scares and some family tragedies. Saint Catherine Center is a place of consolation, peace, and healing for all who are touched by our mission.

We continue to look to the future – The need is great in our community and we continue to strive to meet the needs as they are presented to us. We continue to plan for our bakery; we are planning our future facility needs; we are excited about what the future holds for all of us.

All of these are possible because of you. Together we hold the future of these children and young people in our kind and loving hands. We are called to be the light of the world and your partnership, your commitment to vulnerable among us – provides light for all to see. Thank you for all you do for Saint Catherine Center.

I am honored tonight to introduce Bishop Frank Caggiano. We are grateful for his presence tonight and his ongoing support.

June 9, 2019

Lately, I’ve been pondering an expression my Father used to have when it looked like the world as we knew it was spinning out of control.

He’d say “The more things change, the more they stay the same.” The older I got, the more convinced I became that Dad was right….but not completely.  I’ll explain.

While it may trouble us to see Catholics at one another’s throats, liberals vs conservatives, lay vs clergy, men vs women, gay vs straight, today’s reading from Acts tells us we’ve been here before.  St. Stephen, our parish’s patron saints, died reminding people that they, like their ancestors, had to stop opposing the living Spirit of God.  Today, Christians around the world continue paying the ultimate price for speaking truth to power. The more things change, the more they stay the same….or, at least, so it seems.

In the Gospel from two weeks ago, Jesus prayed on the night before He died that we would all be one, that the world know us by our desire to seek only the good of others in love. But sometimes it seems that the motto of our Catholic Church has become “See how they shove one another.”

Enough, already! Rather than constantly dwelling on negatives, we’ve got to make a conscious decision to desire what Jesus desired at the Last Supper: That all may be one as the Father is in Jesus and Jesus is in the Father. Notice, Jesus doesn’t say “be one with the Father as the Father is with Him. Jesus asks that we may be one in Him as He is in the Father and the Father is in Him. The goal is not simply to walk with  God, but intimate union in God, our beginning and our end.

At the first Pentecost, which we commemorated last weekend, the fire of God’s Holy Spirit was not just with Jesus’ Mother and friends, but penetrated deep within them. That fire was so intense that they proceeded to set a blaze in human hearts which still burns 2,000 years later, despite dyings like St. Stephen’s which sadly continue.

On the night He was betrayed, Jesus prayed “Father, the world does not know you.” In 2,000 years, not much seems to have changed. So right now, you and I have a golden opportunity to rewrite my father’s expression something like this: “The more things don’t change, the more things don’t have to stay the same.” Our Bishop Frank recently said “Many people see our times as troubled. I see them as moments of opportunity.” So, how might we fulfill Jesus’ wish that all people come to know the God Who created us through Him? What are some opportunities we can seize so that we can once and for all put aside the same old disunity and discord?

Jesuit Father Jim Martin suggests that we simply ask God for 3 graces.  First, ask God for the grace to be open, and truly listen to what may be going on in people’s hearts. Second, ask for the grace to give others the benefit of the doubt. Finally, ask for the grace to really trust that things can get better, for history has taught us that things are darkest before the dawn. Never doubt God’s power to bring unity out of disunity, God’s power to unite heaven and earth If God did it for the early Church, God can and will do it for us. Always remember: The more things like discord and disunity don’t change, the more you and I need not let such things stay the same.

By: Deacon Donald Ross, St. Stephen Parish

Like many people around the world, particularly Catholics, I was greatly saddened by the terrible fire at Notre Dame Cathedral, “Our Lady” in Paris. As the fire was burning out of control, many French leaders commented about the importance the beautiful edifice had become to the Parisian people, all of France, and much of Western civilization. Comments made by Archbishop Michel Aupetit of Paris, in particular, made an impression on me; “It is the Catholics who make the Cathedral of Notre Dame live: it is not a museum!” He continued, “If so many people come there, it’s because it’s a living space, enlivened by the Catholics…the word Catholic comes from the Greek meaning universal. We are here to proclaim a universal fraternity based on love.”

Oh my dear Lord, I was so sad that day, as I have visited the magnificent sanctuary many times, always saying a very thorough and heartfelt confession and then attending Mass. Her beauty is marvelous and I have always felt the presence of the Christ, surrounded by the extraordinary stained-glass, the many iconic artifacts, and the obvious musty smell of old wood. Little did I know that she, “Our Lady,” was so vulnerable.

From birth, I was raised in the Roman Catholic Church. I always felt, even as a small child, proud to be part of the Mother Church of Christianity. My faith grew in my early teens as I watched my paternal grandfather show his love for Jesus, the Church, the Blessed Mother, and all that we stand for. Every night before turning in or preparing for a long day of work in the morning, my grandfather would light candles on either side of a magnificent crucifix and, of course, an image of Our Lady of Guadalupe. He would then hit his knees and beg for forgiveness for even the most minor things, even bad thoughts or inappropriate language. He would also bring tremendous gratitude to the Almighty for his beautiful simple life and for all of us. Yes, being a Catholic, is not what I do, it is who I am!

As I started to come of age, I always stayed close to my Church but by any measure, did not live a saintly life. In many ways I have struggled through a life of addiction and consequently destroyed many relationships. It wasn’t until the fall of 2014 that I started to live a life that God had intended for me all along. Prior to this, I had enjoyed some fairly substantial success in business and had made many friends along the way, but all the time my highest priorities were seeking wealth, power, pleasure, and honor.

I was also seeking “truth” through a newfound love of the Gospels, the Beatitudes, the study of Thomas Merton, St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Teresa of Calcutta, St. John Paul II, Deepak Chopra, and Wayne Dyer. But it wasn’t until I was able to surrender my will and learn how to use the tools at my disposal that I was able to understand what is really important in life, the love of all humanity and most of all my beloved family. It was Saint Paul who told us, “If I have not loved, I am nothing.”

Like the magnificence of the Notre Dame Cathedral, I view our church as the most important and extraordinary intellectual institution in the history of man. Our faith is obviously centered on Christ, but enriched by the men and women who lived with Him, ate with Him, walked with Him, and participated in his short time of ministry, culminating with His Passion and Resurrection.

Through the centuries, the richness grew through the great men and women who centered their entire lives on the Trinity alone: Saints Augustine, Aquinas, and Catherine of Siena, GK Chesterton, John Henry Newman, Dorothy Day and of course the apostle to the Gentiles, Saint Paul. The art, architecture and music added to its beauty. Just think of the masterpieces of Michelangelo, including the Pieta, the ceilings of the Sistine Chapel and the dome of St. Peter’s…Rafael, Caravaggio, Beethoven, Johann Christian Bach (himself a convert) and so many more. Although beautiful, our church and it’s leadership have never been perfect, as we have largely been led and managed by men, fallible sinners, everyone.

Indeed, though my Church is great, it’s hierarchy, the clergy, consecrated laypeople, and, frankly, all of us are equally vulnerable to the presence of evil. The multiple scandals of the last 20 years can only be explained, in my opinion, as a result of allowing the Devil to permeate the souls of the individuals that have perpetrated these horrific acts. For a “holy” man, or woman, to attack a child typifies the highest expression of evil. Covering those sins so others will not discover them is equally depraved. Yes, my blessed and beloved Church is burning! Like Notre Dame, I never realized just how vulnerable she is…

What is the way forward? Like the Notre Dame Cathedral, the Church will need to be structurally rebuilt stronger than ever. In the days and hours after the fire was under control, many institutions and individuals pledged, by some estimates, over $1 billion. Rebuilding “Our Lady” will be tedious, requiring expert sacred arts architects and the finest craftsman of the 21st century. But she will be rebuilt! While undertaking the process, her mission must be restated and clarified; she is a sacred sanctuary, honoring the fact that Jesus Christ is the Messiah, the son of the living God.

I can imagine, for example, that the designers will want to maintain much of the 14th-century beauty and will use wooden roof trusses once again, yet will fortify them with steel. This steel will not be visible but will strengthen the roof and make it less susceptible to destruction in the future. This is what needs to happen in the universal church. Her mission has and should always be centered on the joy, love, and obedience to our Lord, but we must be reestablished as a far more transparent and credible institution, never fearing to expose our very soul to the world. We must all participate if we are to be successful. How can we ever regain our position as moral compass to the world, if our own houses are not in order?

There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that rebuilding and strengthening the “universal” Church is possible and may already be underway. Many strong intellectual and skilled leaders are in place. This may sound naïvely optimistic, but I believe that the recent scandals, like the terrible fire may actually bring people back to the faith of their childhood. God’s Love is a blessed and wonderful motivator.

As I said, we all must participate by simply being kind and through service to our less fortunate brothers and sisters, no matter where they come from or how they worship. God loving people have a common humanity and recognition that we are to honor an awesome God. We must also redouble our efforts to love and embrace our priests who continue to obey to their vows and be of service to all selflessly. In the recent scandal, it is the obedient priests who suffer greatly, as they have devoted their entire life to consecrating the Eucharist and caring for all of us. This is not to diminish in any way the tragic impact on the many victims over the decades. Each story is heartbreaking and affirms for me the existence of evil.

Please Lord, above all, help us rebuild “The Lady” and Your Church, so we can embrace the most vulnerable around the world, and continue our mission here on earth, serving You and You alone, I will praise You with my every heartbeat, God willing, into eternity.

By Mark Castillo, St. Patrick in Redding

Ferry Galbert, a seminarian at St. John Fisher Seminary, gave the following address at the Second Annual Rector’s Dinner on Saturday, May 18, which honored Msgr. Stephen M. DiGiovanni, founding rector of the seminary and pastor of the Basilica of St. John the Evangelist, along with Phil and Judy DeFelice, longtime supporters of the seminary.

Good evening, my brothers and sisters in the Lord. It is a blessing for me to stand here on behalf of my brother seminarians for this great event, as we honor Monsignor DiGiovanni, and Phil and Judy DeFelice, who have all played a role in my vocation.

I have spent the last two and a half years at Saint John Fisher, and in the fall, I will enter Saint Joseph’s Seminary in New York. God willing, in four years, the bishop will ordain me and my classmates—Andrew, Jim, Matthew and Miguel—to the priesthood. Please pray for us, that we will be faithful and persevere, and please pray for more vocations for our diocese.

During our time at Fisher, our rector, Father Check, liked to remind us that “Jesus Christ lived an intensely happy and fulfilled human life.” Wait!, Did you catch that? Let me repeat that for you one more time: “Jesus Christ lived an intensely happy and fulfilled human life.” Jesus lived a joyful life because He lived a life of self-giving love for His Father and for us. We see His self-giving and sacrifice expressed most powerfully on the Cross.

I find this truth of the Gospel—the relationship between self-giving and joy—reflected in the life of Saint Philip Neri, who was known as the Apostle of Joy. I first learned about Saint Philip through watching EWTN when, 16 years ago, I was preparing for my Confirmation at the Basilica of Saint John the Evangelist in Stamford, my home parish. I met with the pastor, Monsignor DiGiovanni, to share what I was learning in religious education and to explain the reasons I had chosen St Philip Neri as my patron saint. Later, Mgsr. invited me to work in the parish office. I guess I did okay with that interview…

Father Check was our parochial vicar at the time and I asked him to be my confirmation sponsor. Today, 16 years later, I marvel at the providence of God, as I stand here in the room with the same two priests, but now, as a man in formation for the priesthood.

I recall how Msgr. DiGiovanni would occasionally stop at the office before I had to lock up the church at 4:30 in the afternoon, saying: “Hey Fer! What are you waiting for, just do it.”  He would catch me off guard because I would think he was talking about locking the church. But he’d continue: “Just knock it off and enter the seminary!” At this point, I would respond: “Father, I have to lock up the church.”

So, what was it about Philip Neri that touched my heart? Very simply: Philip Neri had a great love for God. In 1544, he had such an intense experience of God’s love that his heart physically expanded. People said that they could hear his heart beating from several feet away, especially when he was praying or saying Mass. When doctors examined his body after his death, they discovered that his heart was so enlarged, that two of his ribs had been broken and had even curved in the form of an arch. Saint Philip loved God so much that he embraced God’s will and allowed the Lord to do whatever He wanted with his life.  Aside from his mystical experiences, Saint Philip felt, on the natural level, a real, noticeable growth of his heart that caused him great discomfort. We could say that Our Lord was making room in Saint Philip’s heart for the divine love that would enable him to do the work Jesus had in mind for him.

Artists often depict Saint Philip Neri’s love for God through an image of him holding a heart on fire. We can learn much from the life of so great a saint. In particular, we can learn what it means to truly love God and our neighbor with all our hearts. We live in a world that is obsessed with self, where we can remain unaware of the needs and the goodness of those around us, and we can neglect the love of God who created us and redeemed us in love. As a result, we lack joy and a sense of fulfillment. More than ever, we need the example of a Saint Philip Neri to ignite our hearts with a love for God and for our neighbor. We need his example to learn what it means to live a joyful life built on love and service.

The image of Saint Philip’s heart burning with love for Christ reflects the description of Jesus’ heart in the Litany of the Sacred Heart as a “burning furnace of charity.”  We conclude that Litany by saying, “O Jesus, meek and humble of heart, make our hearts like unto Thine.”

We often think of fire as that which destroys, but fire can also purify. In gratitude for the love of Christ who saved us through the Cross, we should ask our Lord to expand our hearts spiritually, to increase our capacity to love Him and His image in others.  For this to happen, we need hearts that have been purified of sin and selfishness, through God’s mercy and grace, by the fire of His love.

The consuming flame dwelling within Saint Philip’s heart was the fire of charity, the fire of the Holy Spirit. Saint Philip teaches us that this fire brings true freedom, because it purifies us from the things that are not of God, and it leads us to a deeper union with Him by way of a conversion of heart. And conversion leads to a greater, burning desire to give ourselves in service to Christ and His Church. This service, this self-giving, leads to joy. Saint Philip’s biographer writes, “This man with his goodness and his humor went out to all men and made them his brothers, fathers, friends, and gave everything he had to relieve the needs of others and yet preferred nothing to the love of Christ.”

At Saint John Fisher, we strive to grow as a community of prayer and charity, to seek the truth, to empty ourselves in service to one another, so that we can “put on the mind of Christ” and be filled with the love of His Sacred Heart. I have come to embrace all the more the joy in living the Gospel of Jesus Christ, for the priesthood is a sign to the world that one can live for something, indeed for Someone, and not just for earthly things.

In closing, my brothers and sisters in the Lord, I ask you these questions: What is it that that sets your heart on fire? What is the cross upon your shoulder? Our Lord promised that He would not leave us orphans and that He would send us the Paraclete. The fire of divine love, so evident in the life of Saint Philip Neri, and so compelling to those who knew him, must occupy ever more space in our hearts, as well, and even stretch our hearts, painfully at times, so that we can fulfill God’s wise and gracious will for us…and so receive what He is most eager to share with us: His presence, His peace, and His joy.

I sat in the hospital waiting room, waiting for inspiration. Well really, I was waiting for my dad to come out of surgery, but I thought inspiration might come, as it usually does at times like this. The faces around me looked tired and strained. I watched different families file in and out, hoping that in with one of them would come a story waiting to be told, inspiration begging to be beheld.

But as the hours passed by I realized…hospitals aren’t at all glamorous and maybe, just maybe, I wouldn’t find inspiration here.

But sometimes inspiration comes in the places we are least looking for it. Beauty shows up in the most unexpected places.

Something my cousins and I always reminisce about is the way we celebrated Easters growing up.

My grandparents would hide our Easter baskets all around the house and before our coats were even off or before we greeted everyone hello, we would be off and running to search for them.

We’d look high and low, up and down and every direction in between, to the sound of my grandpa or my uncle behind us yelling “you’re getting warmer…or COLD, YOU’RE COLD.”

The thing is though, more often than not, our Easter baskets were hidden in the most ordinary places. Like in a coat closet or behind the stairs or in the fireplace.

These places that we saw every day in this old house now held hidden treasure. Something beautiful in an ordinary place. Something beautiful disguised as something ordinary or even mundane.

This makes me think of the crucifixion. Those who followed Jesus had just witnessed the grotesque death of not only their very best friend but also the Son of God.

But to others who did not know this, he was just another criminal being crucified. I can imagine the people that lined the streets as Jesus came by with His Cross, acting as if they were witnessing just another execution.

Something awful to some…but to most, part of their everyday lives. To them, something ordinary. “Who is this Jesus?” they might have asked.

But then the Resurrection happened. And that changed everything.

Something beautiful happened. In an ordinary place, in an ordinary time to seemingly ordinary people.

And God deemed Himself ordinary, because He loves us that much.

And because of this something beautiful, we can partake in the beauty of heaven.

After a long Lenten season, some of us may feel that our spiritual life has become ordinary. We may have become used to not having what we gave up with such difficulty in the beginning, or our prayer and almsgiving has become rote. But with the Easter season, something new is coming.

Eventually, those tired and strained faces in the hospital waiting room turned joyful, as they were called to reunite with their well-mended loved one. And so did my mother and mine, as my father’s surgery went well, our own personal sort of resurrection.

Let that hope fill our hearts as we look toward this new season with joy. That hope that God has a way of making beauty out of the most ordinary things.

I guess inspiration did eventually come to me in that hospital waiting room…but not in the way I expected it. How like our God. Like an Easter basket nestled in a pantry. Like a father recovering from an illness. Like the Son of God Risen from the dead. Beauty breaks forth amongst the ordinary.

By: Libby Clyons

“Go to Father Check – tell him I sent you. St. John Fisher Seminary – in Stamford. You know St. John Fisher Seminary?”

I extend my arms, palms upward, mock-exasperated: “Father, I teach there.”

Father laughs warmly. “That’s not a problem, not a problem. They won’t reject you as a seminarian just for that!”

Of course, Father is just teasing me. I think.

Sacred Beauty is leading a Lenten parish mission based on the Stations of the Cross, Sunday afternoons at Holy Family in Fairfield. It’s a first for our ministry; we’ve been leading public Holy Hours since 2016, and we did something similar in the Diocese of Brooklyn last year, but this is our first mission in the Diocese of Bridgeport. We feel it’s what we should be doing; Bishop Frank told us to fan out more into the diocese, and we’ve consulted with our spiritual director and our chaplain. And it’s been blessed – with lovingly curated music and meditations and Lenten Sunday-appropriate home baking on our part, and with prayer and joy and warmth and welcome on the part of the parish and its pastor, Father Norm, who has presided at Eucharistic Adoration and offered Benediction every week we have been there.

Something his parishioners know well, though one might miss it on the altar: Father Norm is one of the funniest people you will ever meet. Our organizational sessions have been filled with laughter; my Sacred Beauty ministry partner and I leave every meeting with lighter hearts and sorer ribs. It’s not a small gift – when every day has, on top of all the prayers, works, joys and sufferings which the old Morning Offering promised, stresses and frustrations aplenty. Father Norm sees – and experiences – them all, in brilliant color, alongside a gift for finding (and mining) their many rich veins of incongruity and absurdity. But for now, he’s sitting, eyes closed, next to the deacon in the front pew, as we continue our long course through the passion and death of the Lord.

It’s not your average Stations of the Cross; for the most part, we’ve been praying two or three stations a week – or even just one, as in our meditations on the Crucifixion last Sunday. This allows for anything from fifteen minutes to an hour of readings, prayer and song to be devoted to each station.

And what material! Pope Emeritus Benedict repeatedly told of how the best testimony for our faith is the beauty of our art and the lives of our saints. Week by week, my associate in Sacred Beauty has meticulously chosen and judiciously edited works from Fathers and Doctors of the Church, popes and theologians, men and women – works of aching devotional piety, of profound mysticism, of high theological intensity. Each and all tell of the mercy, the generosity, the inexpressible love of God – and do so in authorial voices so individual and so authentic as to cry out: This person knows God.

As for music, we’ve brought chant, art music and conventional hymns, contemporary Christian praise and worship and early American shape-tone songs; we’ve even brought a couple of original pieces of our own. As part of our prayer on the Fourth Station, we sang Wayfaring Stranger – a song from the American Great Revival of the 1830’s. As we learned, Emmylou Harris recorded a version some years ago; Father Norm was humming it through most of the reception.

While we invest many hours – on some level, the whole week – into preparation for each Sunday, we place no great stock in our own role in this. The words are holy, and so are the saints who wrote them; we are definitely work in progress. Perhaps the music, for all that we prepare and practice, might be performed with more precision or professionalism by others, but we sing with all the musical gift and love and prayer at our disposal. If it pleases God and brings us and others with whom we pray closer to Him, that is more than enough for us.

This week, a friend from our past ministry upstate has come to pray with us at Holy Family. Father Norm is giving him the grand tour – the history of the parish, a walk around the campus. As we all clear tables and pack up boxes together at the end of another blessed afternoon of work and prayer, I hear Father Norm calling after him:

“Father Check. C-H-E-C-K. St. John Fisher Seminary. Tell him I told you to give him a call, you hear?”

Paul Chu is co-founder of Sacred Beauty, an approved Private Association of the Faithful in the Diocese of Bridgeport, dedicated to Eucharistic contemplation and to artistic and intellectual creativity reflecting the beauty and holiness of God.